In This White House
by fieldagent85
Summary: On their last night in the White House, Jed and Abbey take some time to reminisce about the past eight years. Coauthored with Regency.
1. Chapter 1

Part One

"I can't believe this is the last night we'll be spending in the White House."

Gathered around the table in the dining room of the Residence, the entire Bartlet family raised their glasses in agreement. Granted, there had been moments when the White House was the last place on earth they wanted to be, but all those moments seemed to fade away that night. They wanted to remember the good times, the memories worth savoring.

"I'll drink to that!" Abbey laughed.

She smiled coyly at the glare she received from her husband following her enthusiastic exclamation and brought her wine glass to her lips. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, smiling back at her adoringly. Noticing her 8-year-old brother squirming restlessly in his seat, Annie put down her glass and turned to her mother.

"Is it okay if Gus and I take a little walk or something?" Annie, now nineteen years old, questioned.

"Yeah, fine," Liz replied. "Don't be gone for too long though, all right?"

Annie nodded and took her brother's hand, leading him out of the dining room.

"I can't get over how grown up she looks," Jed remarked.

"She is a grown up, honey. She's nineteen," Abbey responded.

"Look at her," he continued. "Already in college."

Annie had started her freshman year at Boston University in the fall and had taken home almost all A's for her first semester grades. Truthfully, no one had been surprised. She was a Bartlet, after all. However, to her grandfather's chagrin, the only B she had received during the first semester was in her Economics 101 class. To her grandmother's utter delight, she had received at 97 in her biochemistry class. Though she hadn't broken the news to Liz yet, Annie had divulged to Abbey that she was seriously entertaining the idea of changing her major to pre-med. Abbey insisted that she weigh her options carefully and make sure that she was not making decisions based on the success, and influence, her aunt and grandmother had in the field. Annie never had a particularly prodigious mind for science, opting generally to focus on her english and social studies classes. But, Abbey knew just as well as anyone that college changes everything.

"And looking more and more like her mother every day," Ellie added, winking in her older sister's direction.

Liz shrugged.

"Better me than her father."

At that moment, all eyes lifted and focused on the oldest Bartlet daughter, beckoning her to continue.

"You didn't tell them?" Doug whispered to his wife.

"I guess now's as good a time as any," Liz said, not quite as confidently as she had intended. "Ben's back."

"What!"

"You're kidding!"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Liz gestured for them to silence and then continued.

"He was in Venezuela. And before you all start talking at once, he bought a house in Virginia where he now lives with his Brazilian model wife, Graciela, and their 10-month old daughter, Isabel. He dropped by last week to pay Annie a visit. Annie, as you can imagine, was none too thrilled to see him, so he came to me for advice. I told him the best way to bond with your teenage daughter is to, you know, not jet off to South America for seven years. Then he left."

In general, the Bartlets never missed an opportunity to make fun of Benjamin Silverman, Annie's free-spirited, negligent father, but in this case, they were rendered speechless. But, that kind of silence only lasted so long in their family.

"How's Annie taking it?" Zoey questioned.

"Like a pro, as always. If being in this family has taught her anything, it's how to recover quickly."

"I'll drink to that too," Abbey said.

Once again, they all lifted their glasses in accord.

"Hey, hey, hey. Not you, Ellie," Abbey added quickly.

Ellie frowned and put down her glass reluctantly.

"You know, in France, they encourage drinking while you're pregnant."

"Look out the window, sweetheart. That's the Washington Monument, not the Eiffel Tower."

Vic took Ellie's glass and poured the liquid into his own empty one. It had been his experience recently that it was difficult for him to survive a night with Ellie's family without being at least partially numb. Doug elbowed his brother-in-law and smirked. It had taken him nearly ten years to be able to spend an evening with the Bartlets while completely sober. Both Doug and Vic envied Charlie Young. Being as used to the Bartlets as Charlie was, nothing seemed to phase him. It appeared sometimes that Charlie was more comfortable with the outgoing First Couple than Zoey was.

As the steward came by to take their plates, a few observant members of the family noticed Zoey and Charlie whispering covertly. Ellie and Liz exchanged glances as Jed and Abbey did the same. Less than a minute later, Zoey tapped her wine glass lightly with her fork and asked for her family's undivided attention. Liz and Ellie squealed in girlish delight, intuitively knowing exactly what their little sister's announcement would be.

"Guys," Zoey admonished them.

"Sorry," they both replied.

"Charlie," Zoey whispered. "Stand up."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and did as he was told. He had figured out somewhere in the last seven years that arguing with Zoey was never beneficial in the long run.

"Charlie and I have an announcement to make."

"So we've gathered," Jed replied, eyeing them skeptically.

"Jed." Abbey glared at him.

Zoey took a deep breath and continued.

"Last night, Charlie propo…"

Zoey's announcement was quickly interrupted by Liz and Ellie screaming with excitement and jumping out of their chairs. Within seconds, they had bombarded their little sister and wrapped her into a group hug. Charlie stood beside the shrieking sisters indifferently, Doug and Vic stared at them with confusion, and a glowing Abbey stood from her chair to approach a stoic Jed. He sat still in his chair, staring blankly ahead of him. Abbey wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed his cheek.

"Smile," she whispered in his ear. When he continued to pout, she whispered, "Just remember. It could have been Frenchy."

At that, a reluctant smile spread across the President's face as he regarded his daughters, who had added jumping up and down to their squealing. Abbey laughed and kissed his temple, then wiped the excess lipstick off his skin. She stood up straight and took his hand, beckoning from him to stand. He complied, and the couple slowly advanced toward their three enthusiastic children. Zoey quickly threw her arms around her mother and continued with the squealing. Jed shook Charlie's hand. After a pause, the President pulled his former aide into his arms for a big bear hug. Abbey and the girls calmed themselves long enough to notice and by the time Jed and Charlie broke apart, they found that they were being watched. Thrilled that her father was reacting so favorably, Zoey practically jumped into his arms excitedly. Abbey observed them proudly and wrapped an arm around the waist of her other two girls.

"You're not gonna tell us you need to have the wedding as soon as possible because you're pregnant, are you?" Abbey questioned.

Vic's eyes widened, afraid he was going to be the center of attention again. His mother-in-law, it seemed, enjoyed joking with him about his hastened wedding as much as possible. His father-in-law was determined not to bring it up at all.

"No." Zoey shook her head, laughing. "We're planning to wait until school's out for the summer. Maybe a July wedding, like Mom and Dad."

"How about June, Zoey?" Liz suggested. "Then we don't have to throw you a wedding and Mom and Dad a fortieth anniversary party in the same month."

"I hope you weren't planning for that party to be a surprise, Elizabeth," Jed said.

"Oops."

"June might be too soon," Zoey said. "I want to be able to focus on school, not planning a wedding."

Zoey was now well into her second year of graduate school at Georgetown, studying psychology. She planned to transfer to Dartmouth next year to be closer to her family, though that also depended on what Charlie's plans were post-White House.

"We'd like to have the wedding at the house, if that's okay."

"Absolutely!" Abbey exclaimed. "We'd love it. Wouldn't we, Jed?"

"What? Oh. Yeah. At the house. Great."

"Two of our girls married within a year of each other," Abbey sighed.

"Yeah, I think we're gonna be in debt for the rest of our lives."

Abbey rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder playfully.

"Jed. Don't listen to him, Zoey."

Zoey grinned.

"I never do!"

"Oh, I know that's true," Jed lamented.

"This is quite a big year for us," Ellie observed. "Annie goes to college, Vic and I get married, Dad leaves office, Zoey gets married, and I'll be having a baby. Anything else?"

"Actually, I have an announcement to make," Abbey said.

"Oh, don't tell me you're pregnant too, because I know we've been using birth control," Jed joked.

"Dad!" Zoey complained.

"Come on now." Liz averted her eyes.

"That was unneccesary," Ellie agreed.

"Yeah, the birth control known as menopause." Abbey rolled her eyes.

"That's the most reliable kind."

"What's your announcement, Mom?" Ellie asked.

"Well, for the past few days I've been in negotiations, but the arrangements were made final this afternoon. I've accepted a position teaching at Dartmouth."

"Mom, that's fantastic!" Liz exclaimed.

"Congratulations!" Doug said, in an effort to get back on his mother-in-law's good side.

"That's great, Mom. Really," Ellie insisted.

"God, I hope I don't get you as a professor when I transfer!" Zoey laughed.

"You better hope not, little girl," Abbey agreed. "I'll whip your ass into shape!"

They all laughed. All except the President.

"What are you gonna be teaching?" Charlie questioned.

"Right now, I'll be working with the biomedical department and it looks like I'll be teaching biochemistry, molecular biology, or evolutionary biology. We're working out the schedule."

"Damnit, I was thinking of taking evolutionary biology," Zoey said, chuckling. "Not anymore!"

"Dad? Are you all right?" Liz inquired. "You haven't said a word since Mom made her announcement."

"Uh…yeah," Jed replied. "Fine. Abbey, could I…?"

Placing a hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the room and into the kitchen. When he was certain they were alone and out of earshot, he placed his hands on his hands and began to pace the room. She leaned back against the wall by the door and folded her arms across her chest, anticipating his next move.

"Jed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He blurted out.

"I wanted to wait. I wanted to tell everyone together, as a family," Abbey replied.

"This is really the kind of thing you want to run past me, Abbey."

"Why?"

"Because…because I'm your husband, that's why! Because this is what married people do. They discuss things before making decisions."

"Yeah, you're really the poster child for that, aren't you? Do I need to start listing all the decisions you've made without me or are we good?"

He sighed. She was right. But that didn't make him any less upset.

"What's your problem with the teaching?" Abbey asked, quietly.

"I don't have a problem with the teaching. I have a problem with the timing."

"What timing? I haven't even given you a time frame yet. For all you know, this could be happening in the next year."

"When is it happening?"

"It's happening in August. Classes begin August 30th. That's eight months from now, Jed. That leaves us plenty of time."

"For what?"

"For…whatever the hell we want. For wedding planning, for spending time with our new grandchild, for taking the European cruise we've always wanted to take."

"Yeah, and then what?" Jed said.

"Then we're a little more tied down. Then I have classes to teach and papers to grade. Compared to our life before, we're still gonna have more time together than we ever did. From my hours at the hospital to your hours as president…this is nothing."

"I thought you wanted to settle down."

"I do. We are. Look, it's unreasonable for me to get back into surgery at this point in my life. But I'm not done yet. I've spent the last eight years supporting your career to the point where mine was obsolete. It's time to do something for me now. Can you understand that?"

The warmth of his smile was so contagious that it caused her to smile as well. He moved toward her slowly, gazing at her lovingly.

"Of course I can." He pinned her against the wall with one arm and used the other hand to push the hair out of her face. "You're right. I'm sorry."

He moved his arm down to wrap it around her waist, then leaned forward and kissed her softly.

"I love you."

She kissed him again, framing his face with her hands.

"I love you too."

"They're gonna adore you at Dartmouth," he said.

"Not as much as they adore you, Professor."

"Maybe I should get back into the game. Teach the next Nobel Prize winner in Economics."

"Don't you have a book to write or something?" She asked, facetiously.

"Maybe I'll go Jimmy Carter-style. Habitat for humanity and all that. Whadaya say, Sweet Knees? Feeling like building some houses with me?"

"Do I look like Rosalynn Carter to you?"

"Not particularly."

"I save lives, Rosalynn Carter builds houses. I've done my fair share for the world."

He kissed her forehead as his fingers absently traced her lips.

"You saved mine."

She caught him off-guard with her laughter and dropped her head onto his shoulder, giggling profusely.

"What?"

"My, but you are corny this evening," Abbey replied, between fits of laughter.

"We had a nice moment going there, Hot Pants. Why'd ya have to go and ruin it?"

"Because you brought your cheesy side out to play. I had no choice in the matter."

He placed his hand against the wall once more and pinned her back into place, silently thanking God for giving him someone even shorter than he was. It was moments like these when he was grateful for his wife's similar lack of height.

"You know, if I wasn't so madly in love with you, I'd…"

"What?" She challenged him. "You'd what?"

"I'd…I'd do something so bad I don't even know what it is yet."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing you're so madly in love with me, huh?"

"That's right."

When Jed leaned forward to kiss his wife once more, they found themselves jostled out of place by the door slamming into them.

"Mom, Dad?" Ellie's voice rang through the air.

The door swung closed and Ellie turned, arms crossed, to face her parents, huddled in the corner.

"Well, well, well. "

With not a little discomfiture, Jed moved to stand beside Abbey, rather than in front of her. Ellie shook her head at them, a smile playing upon her lips.

"You two are incorrigible, you know that?"

"It's not what it looks like, sweetheart," Jed insisted.

"Oh, it's exactly what it looks like," Ellie replied, smirking. "And you should be ashamed of yourselves."

"Okay, this role reversal is scaring me just a little bit," Abbey interjected.

Ellie laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, let's get back out there before people start asking questions."

Jed and Abbey followed Ellie out of the kitchen, both of them red-faced and embarassed.

"We'll keep this just between us, right?" Abbey asked her daughter.

"Oh, yeah. Just between us," Ellie agreed, crossing her fingers.

When they returned to dining room, all eyes were on them.

"Hey, guess who just caught Mom and Dad making out in the kitchen!" Ellie called out.

"Eleanor Emily!" Jed reproached his middle daughter.

Laughter, loud and genuine, immediately penetrated the air along with a few minor declarations of disgust from the remaining Bartlet daughters. Abbey blushed and turned to bury her face in her husband's chest, all the while trying to suppress her own giggles.

"We were not…making out, or whatever you want to call it," Jed insisted. "We were just talking."

"Uh huh!" Zoey exclaimed skeptically.

"Sure, Dad," Liz added.

"Hey, this is nothing," Charlie said to the girls. "You're not the one who had to write 'barbecuing' in the schedule whenever they decided to…"

"Charlie!" Zoey cried, covering his mouth with the palm of her hand. 

"What did you call it!" Liz questioned, nearly toppling over with laughter.

"Liz." Zoey shook her head, signaling for her not to probe the issue any further.

"Barbecuing?" Liz continued, despite her sister's warnings. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Don't answer that, Charlie," Zoey ordered.

"Yeah, don't answer that, Charlie," Jed said. "I think the First Lady's gonna pass out in a second."

Still using her husband as a shield to hide her embarassed laughter, Abbey shook her head.

"I'm okay."

She turned to face them and upon seeing the amused expressions on her daughters' faces, she burst out laughing right along with them. Jed shook his head and locked eyes with the other men in the family.

"Women."

"Quiet," Abbey said to her husband. "You love us."

"I do. My life has revolved around these women for the past forty years. Vic, I'm counting on you and Ellie to add some more testosterone to this family," Jed teased his son-in-law.

"Oh…uh…" Vic mumbled awkwardly, looking to his wife for assistance.

"Oh! I can't believe we forgot to tell you. Vic, you were supposed to remind me!" Ellie said.

Vic gave her a half-smile.

"Sorry."

"Vic and I had an ultrasound done the other day and, being the scientists that we are, we couldn't help but look…" Ellie grinned.

"Oh, my God! You know the sex of the baby!" Zoey asked.

Ellie and Vic both nodded.

"Well?"

"It's a boy!"

Squealing and hugging once again ensued as the Bartlet family rejoiced over their soon-to-be newest member.

"Have you thought about a name?" Liz wondered.

"Actually…we have."

"What is it, honey?" Abbey asked curiously.

"Well, we were thinking of…naming him after Leo. Leo Josiah Faison."

"Oh, Ellie."

Abbey felt her husband take hold her her hand and squeeze. She glanced over at his tear-filled eyes and smiled warmly at him.

"I think that's perfect," Jed managed to choke out. "Thank you."

Ellie beamed.

"I'm glad you like it, Daddy." 

He kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"I love it."

They watched silently as his eyes began to glaze over and instantly knew that he was no longer with them. He was in a world all his own. A world where Leo popped into his office everyday, where CJ stood at the podium and dealth with the press, where Sam and Josh floated around the halls everyday looking for answers, where Toby's best friend was his bouncy ball, not a lawyer, and where he himself was president, not some lame duck waiting around to be replaced by the next guy.

"I'm going down to the office."

"Jed-" Abbey protested.

"I'm just gonna gather some of the things I haven't rounded up yet."

Abbey nodded with understanding.

"Okay. Take your time."

"Thank you."

He kissed her quickly, nodded to the rest of his family, and soon disappeared from sight. 


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Abbey Bartlet had never been particularly fond of life in the White House. She longed desperately to return to New Hampshire. She missed the fresh air, the trees, and open skies, and more than that, her family. She missed waking up in the morning and turning over to find her husband still in bed with her. She missed be able to go for a run without being hounded by reporters. Despite her general disdain for the White House, she couldn't help but feel this moment was bittersweet. There would be things she would miss about being First Lady. She liked that there was always a podium for her to speak at, always an audience willing to hear what she had to say. That was a privilege she wasn't likely to have again.

Standing alone on the Truman Balcony, Abbey sadly realized that this would be the last time she saw a view quite like that ever again. She thought of her husband in the Oval Office, regretfully gathering his framed photographs together and placing them into a box. She knew he would spend more time than normal standing in front of the window, staring at the portrait of George Washington, sitting in the chair that had come to be his.

"Grandma?"

Abbey whipped around, startled, and then smiled as she watched her eldest grandchild move toward her. Annie stood beside her, admiring the view with as much appreciation as her grandmother had. Abbey draped her arms around the younger girl's shoulders and planted a kiss in her hair.

"How you doing, sweetheart?"

"Fine," Annie replied, quietly. "Where's Grandpa?"

"Down in his office, finishing up some last minute packing. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

She wasn't sure as she insisted she was, but she saw no harm in reassuring her granddaughter.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine, honey. He's just…you know, adjusting. He has to pack up eight years of his life."

"Yeah. What about you?" Annie asked.

Abbey shrugged.

"What about me?"

"How are you…adjusting?"

"Well, it's eight years of my life too," Abbey answered, with a half-smile. "It's strange to think that…this place, this place that has been my home for eight years…it doesn't belong to me anymore. I can never come back. Well, I can, but I'll be staying in the Lincoln Bedroom. My bed, my bathroom, my closet…little things. Little things that aren't mine anymore. Little things that, this time tomorrow, will be used by someone else. You know, I always imagined that I would be jumping for joy when this moment finally came. Until today, I couldn't wait to get out of here. I've waited so long. I've waited so long to have my life back, to have to my career back, to have my husband back."

Annie smiled sympathetically and dropped her head onto Abbey's shoulder.

"We've waited so long to have you back," Annie said. "You'll miss it for awhile, but it'll get easier."

Abbey looked at her granddaughter and shook her head in disbelief.

"It's a miracle you grew up so normal."

Annie laughed.

"Far from normal. I'm a Bartlet, remember."

"Fair point. God, I really can't believe how grown up you are. I remember when you were sitting in a high chair flinging mashed potatoes at your mother. Where does the time go"  
"Well, I still fling mashed potatoes at my mother, if it makes you feel any better. Not so sure about the high chair thing though."

They both laughed.

"Oh, Annie," Abbey sighed. "Have I mentioned to you lately that I'm much too young to be your grandmother?"

Annie rolled her eyes.

"Just the other day, Grandma."

"You should be my daughter."

"We're not gonna do this again, are we?" Annie questioned facetiously.

"I'm just saying. When you were kid, I'd take you shopping and people would tell me how adorable my daughter was."

"Yes, Grandma."

"As long as we're straight on that."

"By the way," Annie said. "I'm borrowing that outfit for my date next Saturday."

Abbey glanced down at her dark purple, low-cut sleeveless dress that reached just above her knees, and then shook her head.

"You don't think it's a little too risqué for someone your age?"

"First of all, I'm nineteen. Second of all, I think if my grandmother can wear it, I should be able to, don't you?"

"I think that's reasonable. But I want you to wear a sweater."

"You wear a sweater!" Annie retorted, sticking her tongue out.

"You know, it disturbs me a little bit that not only do I wear the same size as my granddaughter, but my granddaughter approves of my fashion sense enough to borrow my clothes for a date."

"Well, what can I say? That blue dress you wore last year for the James Taylor thing? Big hit at my senior prom."

Abbey chuckled.

"I remember. I have pictures."

"And no one suspected I might have borrowed it from my grandmother."

"Yeah, go figure. I'm glad someone else is getting good use out of my $4,000 gowns."

"Except for that punch I spilled on it," Annie said sheepishly.

"I beg your pardon, Anne?"

"Nothing." Annie slung her arm through her grandmother's and pulled her in the direction of the door. "Let's go back inside, shall we?"

Inside the Residence, the First Lady and her granddaughter found the rest of the family lounging around the sitting room, laughing infectiously at something or other. Annie ran over and collapsed on the couch beside Zoey or rather, on top of her.

"Ouch! Thanks for that, Annie."

"Anytime."

Zoey and Annie considered themselves practically sisters. Being only about six years apart in age, they had essentially grown up together, especially since Liz and Annie had lived with the Bartlets for the first six years of Annie's life. Annie didn't refer to Zoey as 'Aunt' like she did with Ellie, despite numerous objections from Liz.

Abbey watched her family with pride shining in her eyes as they laughed and talked animatedly. She thanked God, and not for the first time, for blessing her with such a close family, regardless of all the time they'd had to spend apart. But something was missing.

"Mom, come sit down," Liz invited her.

Abbey shook her head slowly.

"I think I'm gonna go check on your father."

The Bartlet White House.

For eight years, it had been known as only that. It was the building in which President Josiah E. Bartlet lived and worked, ate and slept, succeeded and failed. It was in the Oval Office that the magic occurred. In triumph and in tragedy, it was the Oval Office. An imperious symbol of the man and of the duty. The office, despite its many obvious advantages, made no successful effort to accurately portray its proprietor. Not even the seal on the carpet could convey his genius and sensitivity, his insatiable appetite for knowledge and infinite capacity to love, or his commanding use of speech and rhetoric. He was a man of principle, a man of integrity, a would-be man of the cloth. He was a devoted husband, a loving father and grandfather, a skilled economist, a brilliant politician, and, more than that, a genuinely good person. Rarely had there been a Commander-in-Chief in the past that so gloriously embodied each of these qualities and made no attempt to conceal them. Despite concealing certain other things which shall remain unnamed for the time being, his faithful followers believed enough in his ability to lead them honestly and courageously that they blindly joined hands with him and took a leap of faith. When they landed, waving to a desolate Robert Ritchie on the other side, they breathed a sigh of relief and handed the remains of their trusting souls to their President. President Josiah Bartlet, occupant of the Bartlet White House, administrator of the Oval Office. Their leader.

Not only their leader, but her leader. In times of uncertainty, in times of trouble, in times of despair, he guided her through the darkness to a place where nothing was too much for her to handle. Not without him by her side. Sometimes she felt that his citizens did not understand. They didn't comprehend that she needed him as much as they did, more. Their country depended on him, her life did. Without him, the sun was dim, the sky was gray, the air was scarce, and the beauty she believed the world possessed was barren and unworthy of her footsteps. Every moment without him was wasted, dull, and more painful than the last. Day after day, she awoke harboring the familiar, mind-numbing fear for his health that had plagued her since the moment he first experienced paraparesis of the anterior femoral muscles, but in some indirect, selfish way, it was her own health she sheltered a deep concern for. Her heart shut down if his did.

How do you pack up the most important endeavor you have ever engaged in? How do you compact the single greatest achievement of your existence? How do you bottle up a legacy so great? Some things are so abstract that you can't take them with you. Some things are so much greater than the package in which it has been sealed. Some things are far more powerful than ever imagined at initial conception. He had entered the race to keep the intended candidate honest. He had entered the race to lend voice to the issues that deserved attention. He had won the election due to his unconditional honesty and his unparalleled ability to truthfully represent the issues he felt strongly about. He entered the White House to correct all that had gone wrong in the world. He entered the office to make a difference no one else could, to use the mighty powers of a politician's podium for good rather than evil. He remained in the White House to rectify past mistakes and prove his worth. He remained in the office to glorify the original foundations of government and create solutions to problems only he could unravel. He prepared to depart the White House now wondering if he had made all the right decisions, helped all the right people, and solved all the right quandaries. He prepared to depart the office with remorse, uncertainty, relief, and concern.

Eight years of being in charge. Eight years of carrying the burden. The thought of another man taking on his responsibilities was bewildering for him. Now, he would be informed of all decisions following their formation. He would be forced to let his successor make decisions only he felt comfortable making. Frightening was far too weak a word to describe how he viewed this revolution. The Boston Globe would be his press secretary, a flat screen Dell computer stationed in the den would be his communications director, Microsoft Word would be his speechwriter, his cell phone would be his personal aide, and his wits would be his chief of staff.

His children- beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and miraculous- would still be his children. His wife- fascinating, strong, brilliant, and startlingly lovely- would still be his wife. They were his only requirements for existence. He was a simple man, he asked for nothing more their well-being and presence in his life. That was enough.

Framed photographs and other various mementos were stacked high in the cardboard box waiting on his desk. His fascinating, strong, brilliant, and startlingly lovely wife was waiting too. She stood in the doorway, observing his circumspect movements with sympathetic, adoring eyes. He turned around after catching a whiff of her familiar perfume and could focus on nothing more significant than her astounding beauty at that moment. Encased by the walls of the entrance, he admired her exquisite features and silently doubted God's exclusive ability to create another being that possessed half the beguiling qualities, both physical and mental, as she did. For the past eight years, he had missed her so. Watching her sleep and calling her from Air Force One had not been sufficient. He needed more than her peaceful, sleeping form and soothing voice to be satisfied. If there was anything he was looking forward to about his departure from office, it was her.

He held his hand out to her and she walked forward slowly. She placed her warm hand in his and tightened her grip. He stroked her knuckles gently with his thumb, careful not to touch her blessed wedding rings. A surge of adrenaline began to spread throughout her veins, invested in her by his electric touch. The mere contact of his skin and hers granted her access to all of his emotions. All at once, she suddenly felt his passionate love for her and his love for the office he was preparing to leave behind. She felt the sorrow, the hesitation, the plaintive enthusiasm, and the enduring stamina of a man who had accomplished so much in both professional and personal life. She was honored to stand beside him. He was thrilled to be given the rest of his life with her, with or without the clout of the president.

"Remember," she whispered.

His lips curved into a smile and he nodded.

"Remember."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

The President sat behind his bare desk in the Oval Office, probably for the very last time. His photographs were packed up and his little artifacts were buried in boxes somewhere. The surface of the desk was clean, void of important files and documents. He had never seen it like this before. There had always been something there, something waiting for him. A problem desperate for his attention, a briefing needing to be read carefully. Not tonight. Tonight, he sat in his beloved chair, with his wife comfortably on his lap, and nothing on his desk. Nothing to do.

"What are you thinking about?" Abbey asked, softly.

He shrugged.

"There's nothing on the desk."

"All the more convenient for recreational activities," she joked, her eyes sparkling.

He laughed and shook his head.

"You're insane."

Abbey grinned and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"No kidding. You know, despite all of our joking about it, we've never actually made love in here. I guess we're just a class act, huh?"

"Came pretty close a couple of times."

"Well yeah, but you still haven't figured out how to close those curtains."

"And it is doubtful that I ever will," Jed replied. "Bet Matt Santos will figure it out."

"Nah. If you can't figure it out, Mr. Nobel Laureate, Santos doesn't stand a chance," Abbey said. "On your worst day, you are twice the man he'll ever be."

He smiled warmly at her.

"Flattery is not going to get you any action on top of this desk, Sweet Knees."

"That's okay." She laughed. "We have a pretty nice bed in the Residence anyway. And an even better one at home."

"Home," Jed sighed. "That's not here anymore."

She shook her head slowly.

"It never was."

He nodded sadly.

"Yeah."

"And may I remind you, Mr. President," Abbey said. "This White House hasn't always been kind to our sex life."

"Roslyn."

"Trips around the world."

"MS."

"Toby."

Jed frowned and stared at her with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"I beg your pardon."

"You don't remember?" She asked, in surprise.

"No, but I sure can't wait to take this particular trip down memory lane."

February, 2002

Long after Abbey had fallen into a fitful sleep, Jed laid awake. He focused on the ceiling as if it possessed all the answers to his questions and the resolutions to his muddled thoughts. He knew Toby had been out of line tonight; the man had so clearly crossed the line of demarcation that even in remembering Jed had to quell his indignation.  
There were simply some things that went without saying, some things that were never up for discussion. Jed's relationship with his father, disciplinary and otherwise, was definitely one. Toby had no right to even broach the topic. Not in that office, of all places!  
Jed had to stifle a sigh of discontent. He didn't like what their 'discussion' forced him to think about. It was opening too many wounds long scarred over and covered in delicate new skin. With every earnest look and well-placed blow he recalled, he was beginning to feel the pain anew. It was a deep and somewhat muddy pool of feelings he'd never been able to quantify or discuss; embarrassment, guilt, anger, and the overreaching sense that he'd never become what his father wanted him to be. Whatever that was. He'd never had the pleasure of learning.  
It puzzled him that a man that he'd hardly wanted to know, much less be friends with, four years ago knew just the right big red button to push to leave him sleepless. Sleepless and restless and disturbed. Abbey's normally soothing presence didn't have the potency to nudge him to unconsciousness. If anything, her serene breathing irked him a little. It wasn't that he begrudged her this fine sleep but he felt that maybe if she was awake with him, the burden wouldn't rest quite so heavy on his mind.  
He turned over in short careful movements until he was facing Abbey. Her eyes moved beneath her eyelids as though she was viewing a lively tennis match. She clasped her pillow with one fist and had the other one tucked under her cheek. She exhaled and her spearmint breath warmed his chin. He leaned over to brush his lips slyly against hers.  
A sluggish wakefulness arose inside of her and she curiously slanted her mouth to his. He cupped her face in his steady hand, relishing how certain discomforts faded with proximity to his wife. She was proving to be a more than effective salve on his anxiety.  
Abbey grasped his light touch and kissed him back, rather involved for a woman still pretty much asleep. He chuckled and moved closer, well into her space, and eased her sensuous form into a one-armed embrace. She hooked her leg around his thigh and snuggled up close to him, pushing away the covers between them. She ran her hands across the shoulders of his silk pajamas and slid one inside the opening of his top.  
The matted hair on his chest tickled the underside of her fingers and her palm and the slightly rough texture of his 1 o'clock shadow sensitized her lips when she kissed his face from his strong jaw to his earlobe. He smiled at her determination and, forgoing the problematic buttons of her top, slipped his hands beyond the hem to caress the expanse of her alabaster spine.  
He kissed her hair and she tried to move closer, though any closer and she would've been in his skin. He was fine with that. He was fine with her hands drifting down his chest and his stomach, with obvious designs on lower destinations. He was ecstatic to have her in his arms; he always was. This was Abbey; his beguiling, teasing, seductive Abbey. She sent him to the moon. Her hand descended completely and they both made an unexpected discovery.  
Nothing was happening as she touched him. Nothing at all. Psychologically, he was thrumming with arousal, but physically he was asleep below the waist. He was…disturbed and a little horrified. Thirty-three years of marriage and this had never happened -- or not happened, as the case seemed to be. Abbey's pensive expression did nothing to alleviate the mixture of horror and shame he felt. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he shifted his gaze to her cheek. He didn't need to see the concern or pity in her eyes.  
Yes, they both knew this could happen someday; they'd discussed it at length and how their love didn't hinge on their ability to have sex, how it was more than just the physical moments they shared. And yet, it was here now and he felt like not only less of a man, but less of a husband to her. She was a sexual being and if he couldn't satisfy her…he didn't deserve her. Damn this weak body!  
She ached herself at what he must've been going through. She traced his cheek. She told him she loved him, but he didn't reciprocate, having descended into his brooding head.  
He couldn't win. He had failed his father, betrayed his country and now he was disappointing his wife. He didn't know when he had become this structural failure of a person. Inwardly, the shards of him shuddered when she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his skin.  
"It might not be permanent," she whispered to unaffected countenance. He only retreated farther into himself in response. "For all we know, this has nothing to do with the MS. It could all be in your head"  
He looked down at her darkly and she resisted the urge to withdraw from him. Instead she took hold of his lapels and pulled him firmly towards her, throwing off his balance entirely. He tumbled sideways into her and they landed in a heap of sarcastic, biting, damned scared human beings on the floor. She struggled with the air being knocked out of her and he winced at the impact on his old bones. Falling out of bed together used to be fun.  
He glowered down at her and she chuckled, realizing she should've thought her plan through a little better. She let go of his top and held his face just a fraction of an inch from her own. Asking for his consent soundlessly, she kissed him. She closed her eyes as a familiar pulsation washed over her. The sensation spread through her warm body to his and he senses the formidable arrival of want. Only it wasn't enough.  
He pulled back at the searing ache in his chest and gasped to fill his complaining lungs. Abbey's sternum heaved and she pursed her swollen mouth. She threw an arm over her eyes and tried to calm herself down. In the near non-existent light, she had become Snow White in color, all red lips and pale flesh.  
Still panting slightly, she blew out another gust of spearmint wind. "There are people you can see, people who can help"  
"I shouldn't need help making love to you"  
The corner of her lips quirked up and, though he couldn't see them, he knew her green eyes shimmered in sober amusement. She dropped her arm and sat up to rest on back on her elbows. "You don't need help making love to me. You do that just fine. You did that now; that kiss, that was making love to me." He looked at her skeptically. "I mean it. That did it for me. If that's all we ever have again, I'll still be satisfied. You don't need help pleasuring me. You need help living with whatever is going on in your head"  
"So, what do I do?" He had been without sleep for days and now he was without another creature comfort. He was beyond feigning a good mental state.  
"Leo knows a guy. He's good at what he does. His name is Stanley Keyworth. Talk to him"  
"I don't like psychoanalysts"  
Abbey rolled her eyes at his boneheaded stubbornness. "Then, think of him as a friend you're paying to talk with"  
"I have to pay him"  
She raised an eyebrow at him and he looked straight back at her rebelliously. They staged a brief battle of wills before he relented.  
"All right. I'll talk to him." With some difficulty, Jed stood up and offered a helping hand to Abbey. She took it and stood up after him. They climbed back in bed, accompanied by complainant moans and groans of the middle aged. He laid back to stare at the ceiling once more, running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. Abbey reclined on her side next to him and placed her hand over his heart. He slid his eyes from the inoffensive sheetrock to her wry gaze and moved to hold her hand.  
Her eyes made him giddy, made feel like a young would-be priest still innocent to her tantalizing and enchanting ways. He wanted always to feel that way.  
"I knew you'd see things my way." He gave a noncommittal grunt and muttered childishly under his breath. "Oh hush." She burrowed into the covers, cocooning with him in the start of a less than ordinary slumber.  
"Good night," he uttered into her skin "Yes," she returned. Though she sincerely hoped that the rest of their nights would be better.

Jed groaned.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for reminding me of that time in my life."

Abbey laughed.

"Oh, Jethro, this is just the beginning."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

"You know what I miss?"

Jed Bartlet locked eyes with his wife, still seated on his lap, and nodded in response to her question, beckoning for her to answer it herself.

"I miss those carefree moments. You know, cooking dinner, watching tv, going for walks…"

"We've had a carefree moments," Jed protested.

"Very few."

He ran his fingers gently along her spine, knowing instinctively that the gesture comforted her.

"They were not completely nonexistent though."

"All too few and far between, honey."

"That, I'll grant you."

April, 2003

"Pulchritudinous."

Abbey walked out of the bedroom to find her husband positioned comfortably on the couch facing the television. He seemed to be overwhelmed by paperwork, yet not paying it an ounce of attention. It was a rare night, an early night. All his evening phone calls had made been, all crises were solved or temporarily postponed, the staff had gone home, and even Leo had left the office. Five minutes earlier, Abbey had walked in from a meeting with the women's caucus and headed straight to the bedroom to change. When she had discarded her high heels, stockings, and business suit in favor sweat pants and a tee-shirt, she joined him on the couch.

"I don't want to hear it," she complained.

"Characterized by or having great physical beauty and appeal."

She curled up beside him and propped her legs up on his lap.

"I'll have to commit that to memory."

"Example," Jed continued. "The First Lady of the United States, despite her obvious disdain for vocabulary, is exceptionally pulchritudinous."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered."

"Would I insult you, oh pulchritudinous wife?"

Abbey rolled her eyes.

"What are we watching?" She squinted her eyes, then quickly put her glasses on. "Oh, no. Tell me you're not…oh, no. The History Channel?"

"What?" Jed questioned, innocently. "It's 'Japan's Mysterious Pyramids.' This is fascinating stuff."

She swung her legs off of his lap and stoos squarely on her feet.

"I'm outta here."

"Oh, no you don't."

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back down onto the couch.

"What would you rather we watch?"

"Well, it's almost ten o'clock on a Thursday…" She winked at him.

"Fine. We'll put on ER. Happy now?"

Abbey snuggled in closer to him as he draped an arm around her shoulders.

"Quite."

"All too few and far between," Abbey repeated with a sigh.

"Well," Jed responded. "Come tomorrow, we can have all the carefree moments we want, kid. We can watch ER all day if you want, now that Liz bought you all four seasons on dvd for your birthday."

Abbey grinned.

"Maybe I'll even watch a couple episodes of Modern Marvels with you."

"Now you're talking! There are a couple of upcoming features I'm particularly looking forward to as well. 'Ten Days That Unexpectedly Changed America' and 'Decoding the Past- The Other Nostradamus.' You in?"

Abbey sighed in defeat.

"If you behave. That last one will require at least six episodes of ER to compensate."

"Yes, ma'am. Maybe this retirement thing won't be quite so bad after all," Jed said, with a slight bit of enthusiasm.

"But you know, I will say one thing about the White House," Abbey stated. "It has a way of breaking our ankles."

Jed laughed heartily.

"You make an excellent point, my dear. Except I only sprained mine. You were the one rolling past people in a wheelchair for a significant amount of time."

November, 2001

The Residence had been so quiet without her the past few days. He understood that she needed a break, and he agreed that she deserved one. Had he known she was going to spend the weekend hiking in the White Mountains, he might have had something to say about that. Instead, she had lied and insisted she would be relaxing indoors when he had inquired as to her hiking habit. She had been so distressed and preoccupied lately, and deservedly so; some sort of accident was inevitable. When he spoke to her on the phone following the incident, she had been terse and quite frankly, a little pissed off. That being said, she hadn't shared an enormous amount of details with him. A conversation with Ron Butterfield told him that, while hiking off the Kangamangus highway in North Conway, New Hampshire she had tripped on a rock in the open and had quite a nasty fall. Abbey herself would never admit to that of course. She insisted that the rock had been impossible to discern and anyone would have fallen as she had. Ron was pretty adament about the rock being obvious despite what the First Lady may have claimed. The President had done his homework and spoken to Abbey's hiking companion at the time, her sister, Julia. Julia was inclined to agree with Ron Butterfield and attested to the fact that Abbey was more than a little distant and distraught at the time of the accident. He had no doubt.

The President had left the office a little early that night, to prepare himself for her arrival. He had every intention of doing everything in his power to make the next few weeks as easy on her as possible. If he had to rearrange the furniture so that she would have a clear path to get whenever she wanted to go, he would do it himself. If he didn't, he would be the one listening to her complain constantly about her lack of mobility.

When he received the call that the First Lady was on her way up, Jed braced himself. She was going to be more than a little pissed off and he aimed to alleviate whatever ailed her. Emotionally, at least, if not physically. But first…he was going to have to taunt her a little.

The door flung open and he was a little taken aback by the sight of his wife in a wheelchair. Here was this magnificent force of nature before him, confined to a small, portable chair. He imagined she was just as thrown off by it as he was. The agent who had wheeled her in quickly excused himself and closed the double doors behind him, leaving the President and First Lady by themselves.

"Well, well, well."

Jed circled her like a predator to its prey and folded his arms across his chest.

"Had a little accident, did we?"

"Cut the crap, Jed, you know exactly what happened."

"Only after I interrogated Ron and your sister."

"I tripped on a rock," Abbey said, haughtily. "At least I didn't ride my bicycle into a tree."

"Oh, I know you tripped on a rock, dear, and I'm choosing to ignore that last statement. The question is why you tripped on a rock."

"It was unavoidable."

"That's not what Ron said."

"Ron wasn't there."

"Julia did not hesitate to agree," Jed pointed out.

"Julia is blind without her glasses."

"Just admit it, Abbey. Admit you didn't see the rock because your head was somewhere else."

"Why? Why is it so important to you?"

"Because I warned you not to go hiking. I told you it was a bad idea and you just had to disregard my counsel and…"

"All right already! God, you are a piece of work. Yes! Okay? You were right. I didn't see the rock because my head was somewhere else. I was too preoccupied with the possibility that my license might get taken from me and you might be censured! I apologize for allowing my concern to distract me."

He nodded, instantly regretting all that he had said to her.

"Come on, let me help you out of that chair."

"In favor of what?"

"In favor of that bed over there, which, I assure you, is a thousand times more comfortable than that chair."

She reluctantly agreed. He wheeled her over beside the bed and lifted her out of the chair. With an arm around her waist, he hoisted her up onto the bed without causing any further injuries which, they both agreed, was a miracle of gargantuan proportions. Seconds later, he disappeared into the bathroom before reappearing, clad in his favorite plaid pajamas. Then, he held up her nightgown and grinned at her.

"Oh, no." Abbey shook her head fervently. "I can get changed on my own, thank you."

"Gonna be hard, seeing as how you can't move your leg there, babe."

"Watch me."

He fully intended to. First, she kicked off her shoe. Then, she grabbed the hemline of her sweater and lifted it over her head, falling down onto the bed as she did so. She tossed the sweater onto the floor where it landed a foot from where Jed stood watching. Abbey pressed her elbows against the bed in an effort to lift herself up long enough to unzip her skirt, but when she tried to use her hand to pull down the zipper, the elbow dislodged and she fell back down with a groan.

"Still think you can do it?"

"Shut up."

It took her about thirty seconds, but she managed to turn over onto her side. She reached back to pull down the zipper on her skirt.

"Let's see you get it off," Jed challenged her.

"Shut. Up."

He held his hands up in defeat and stepped back. She pushed the skirt down off her hips until it reached her cast. She bent her right leg and pushed the skirt off of it. Now, the only obstacle left was getting the skirt past her painfully heavy cast. She tried to reach forward and lift up her left leg with her arms, but she did not prove to be strong enough. Muttering obscenities under her breath, she pushed her left leg over the edge of the bed and winced at the pain that ailed her once it had nothing to hold it up. She quickly pushed the skirt off her leg, then pulled the leg back onto the bed.

"Well done!" Jed commended her. "Now, you going to sleep with that bra on?"

"Piece of cake," Abbey replied, airily, now confident in her abilities.

"Okay. Go ahead."

Once again, she propped herself up on her elbows to get access to the clasp in the back. As Jed had predicted, she ran into the same problem she'd had with the skirt zipper. Each time she tried to reach behind her, her elbows moved and she fell back down again. As she had done before, she rotated onto her side and tried to reach back again, but with one arm trapped underneath her body, she couldn't reach the clasp.

"Damnit!"

"Want some help?" He offered.

"No! I can do it."

"See, like I always said, it's much more convenient to have the clasp in the front."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Determined to prove her husband wrong, Abbey moved on to Plan C. She reached up and, one by one, pushed down the straps of her bra. Once she had pushed them off of her arms, she pushed the bra itself down to her waist.

"Oh, for God's sake…" Jed shook his head.

Unperturbed, she continued moving the bra down her torso, jumping when the clasp in the back snapped and broke.

"Ha!" She exclaimed, tossing the bra in his direction. "Who's the man now"  
Between fits of laughter, he managed to catch the bra as it flew toward him.

"Abbey…"

"What? I proved that I can get undressed on my own, without you. What do you have to say about that!"

"You can't get undressed without severely damaging certain articles of clothing. I'd hardly say you were successful."

"It's just a broken clasp!"

"And one less fifty dollar bra from Victoria's Secret."

"That's not the point. Give me my nightgown."

"Mmm, no, I don't think I will."

"Jed." Abbey glared at him.

"You cheated. I'm not rewarding you. Plus, I'm kind of enjoying the view here."

"Jed, I swear to God, if you don't…"

"Oh, take your damn nightgown."

He tossed the cotton nightgown over to her and was just as surprised as she was when it landed on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes followed the nightgown, then returned to her husband, wide and astonished. Her jaw dropped in shock.

"That was low, Jed."

"You were supposed to catch it!"

Abbey sighed.

"This is ridiculous, you know that?"

"No kidding."

He walked around the bed to the other side then picked up the nightown and tossed it to her again. This time, she caught it.

"Abbey, seriously, there is no way you can put that nightgown on without a little help."

She looked down at her cast in despair, then nodded grudgingly.

"Yeah. Okay. You're right."

Jed grinned.

"Twice in one night. That's gotta be a first."

"Just shut up and help me, would you please?"

"And now that we're returning to New Hampshire," Jed said, laughing. "There'll be plenty more opportunities for broken ankles."

Abbey smirked.

"Something to look forward to."


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

After the last anecdote, Jed had gotten up to fix them some drinks. Sherry for her, scotch for him, their usual. When he was through, he saw that she had moved over to the couch rather than behind the desk. Without questioning it, he followed her example and sat beside her.

"You know something?" Jed asked. "Part of me is glad we lost Josh, Sam, Donna, Toby, etc when we did."

"Why?" Abbey asked out of genuine curiosity.

"It makes it a lot easier saying goodbye."

She reached over and took his hand, smiling reassuringly at her husband.

"And harder all the same," Abbey said.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, Abbey began to giggle profusely, causing Jed to turn and gaze at her with bewilderment.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about…do you remember, about four years ago, when Lilly sent me to Phoenix on our anniversary?"

"Oh, God," Jed muttered. "How could I forget? I had to surprise you a day early so that we could celebrate after all."

"Leo and CJ were such good sports." Abbey smiled fondly at the memory.

July, 2002

Silence enveloped the Oval Office momentarily. The President and Chief of Staff's conversation was at a standstill. Leo McGarry observed the President circumspectly as he appeared to float away from his present location to a place nowhere near Washington, DC. His eyes were vacant, his expression thoughtful. He had pulled off his glasses and placed them onto his desk.

"Mr. President."

It took a moment, but Jed Bartlet soon paid his Chief of Staff some attention. It had been nearly three minutes since a word had been spoken between them and the man with the lesser title was getting restless.

"Yeah."

"Sir, is everything all right? You're a little…dare I say…spacey this morning," Leo commented with concern.

"Yeah, it's just…nothing. Don't worry about it," the President insisted.

"You're sure?"

"It's just Abbey."

"Due respect, sir, but it's never 'just Abbey.' Usually when it's Abbey, it's very much Abbey on numerous levels," Leo replied.

"Yeah." Jed shrugged. "Right now, she's probably in the East Wing firing Lilly Mays."

"What? Why?"

"Oh yeah, do me a favor and re-hire her after Abbey tells her to pack her things, okay?"

"I take it Lilly is being falsely accused of something?"

"No, she's being rightly accused of something. Just not something worthy of terminating her job."

Leo frowned, frustrated by the ambiguity that surrounded their conversation.

"What's going on?"

"Our anniversary's next Saturday, the 27th."

"Yeah."

"Lilly's got her in Phoenix on Saturday," Jed explained ruefully.

"Ohhh. That's a problem."

"You think? Thirty-fifth anniversary, Leo."

"She can't cancel?" Leo wondered.

Jed shook his head.

"Apparently, this appearance is essential to the…something or other. You know."

"Right. And it has to be Saturday?"

"It has to be Saturday," Jed replied. "I pity anyone who crosses Abbey's path today, Leo. I really do."

"Well, you know, as your Chief of Staff, it's my job to develop solutions to your problems, right?"

Jed sat up straight and narrowed her eyes in Leo's direction with interest.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Mr. President. CJ."

Jed nodded and stood from behind his desk.

"Send her in."

Charlie nodded and exited the room. Seconds later, he was replaced by CJ Cregg in the doorway.

"Claudia Jean! Come in, come in."

CJ approached her boss apprehensively.

"Yes, sir."

"What are you working on right now, CJ?" Jed questioned.

"Well, I was working with Toby on…"

The President shook his head.

"Not anymore."

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"When was the last time you went to the Pentagon City Mall?"

"Uh…about two weeks ago, Mr. President," CJ replied, highly confused.

"I think it's due time you went back, don't you?"

"Sir?"

"The agents have already secured the place. All you have to do is show up."

"Mr. President, it's entirely possible that I spaced out during an important part of this conversation, but why…is this happening again?" She asked.

"I want you to take the First Lady shopping."

CJ chuckled.

"She usually takes me, not vice versa."

"This is very important, CJ. She's not gonna know why you're doing this and she's going to grill you on it. Just tell her you're desperate for her fashion expertise on…whatever. She'll appreciate that."

"Then she'll be expecting me to actually buy something, sir."

"Right. I hadn't thought of that. You in the market for any designer clothes at the moment?"

"Don't worry about it, Mr. President." CJ smirked. "Whatever I buy, I'll just return tomorrow. Where can I find Mrs. Bartlet?"

"She should be in her office."

"Okay. How much time do you need?"

"CJ, how did you…"

"Leo told me. I think it's a great idea by the way."

Jed nodded.

"About two and a half hours. Think you can do that?"

"Two women in a mall for two and a half hours? Yeah, I think I can handle that. Fair warning, sir, the First Lady will probably end up buying ten times what I buy. She usually does."

"What else is new?"

CJ grinned and advanced toward the door.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, CJ!"

"Anytime, sir."

"I owe you one."

"I couldn't have planned that surprise without Leo's ingenius ideas," Jed said.

"And you couldn't have executed it without CJ's excellent powers of distraction."

"Both of them, loyal to the end."

Both Jed and Abbey shuddered at the word 'end' and exchanged pensive, sad glances.

"And Sam…" Abbey trailed off. "Sam was a trooper. Perpetually the last to know, but unconditionally loyal."

"And one helluva writer too."

May, 2002

"You know, I gotta say, Mrs. Bartlet, this feels a little illicit."

Sam Seaborn followed close behind the First Lady through the Residence. The lights in the hallway were significantly dimmed and instead of agents posted in the doorways, all Sam could discern were dark silhouettes of heavily armed men. There was not a single one, Sam realized, that could not kill him in less than five seconds. He picked up his pace, determined not to be left behind with these killing machines.

"What feels illicit?" Abbey questioned.

Sam's hands dove into his pockets nervously as he continued to expertly shadow the First Lady.

"Roaming the hallways of the Residence with the First Lady so late at night. I'm just saying, it's pretty shady."

"Sam."

He heard the admonishment in her voice and quickly deflated his sarcasm.

"Yes, ma'am."

They halted in front of the closed door that lead to the presidential bedroom. Sam took inhaled confidence, then exhaled it just the same. Abbey averted her eyes from his and chuckled.

"Sam."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can I get you a Xanax or something? Some scotch? You're looking a little flushed."

"No, thank you, ma'am."

"Okay." She opened the door. "Come on in."

Abbey held the door open and beckoned for him to walk inside the bedroom. Though his vision had become a little on the blurry side in the last few minutes, he managed to distinguish a chess board set up in the middle of the room, beside the couch.

"You…summoned me here to play chess?"

"You were the only one not running around like a chicken with its head cut off. CJ's wigging out, Toby's pissed at the world, Josh is staging a nutty as usual, and Jed and Leo are in the Situation Room. Is it any wonder I chose you?"

"No, ma'am, I suppose not."

"Sit down."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sam took a seat on the couch in front of the chess board and Abbey sat down on the floor on the opposite side. Sam reckoned that was the first time he had ever witnessed the First Lady of the United States sitting on the floor, not that he was objecting.

"I heard about what you did for Dr. Millgate a few months ago, what you said to Senator Enlow."

Sam shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"Dr. Millgate was a professor of mine in college. I did what I could."

"You did good, Sam."

"You've been keeping up with the super conductor…collider…you know?"

Abbey laughed and nodded her head.

"I try to."

Things got quiet for a few moments as each player carefully mapped out their strategies and rustled up a sly subterfuge or two. They moved their pawns circumspectly, certain to see the whole board. It was a theory that both Abbey and Sam had learned from the master, and a theory neither of them would ever forget. As he had that night playing chess with the President, Sam attempted to apply the theory to the context of reality. Still, as he stunned the First Lady by capturing her queen, he could not outline, in his head, a reason why she would have invited him to compete against her in the first place. It wasn't that he suspected her of ulterior motives, at least not in so many words, but the First Lady had a tendency to distance herself from the staff if at all possible. Not because she disliked them in any way, Sam knew, more because she prefered not to get wrapped up in their world. It wasn't her world. She didn't want it to be. Her admiration for her husband and each member of his staff was immeasurable but her desire to emulate them was entirely absent.

See the whole board.

"Mrs. Bartlet?"

Without looking up from the board, Abbey replied, "You're not forfeiting the game yet, are you, Sam?"

"No, ma'am, I plan to see this one through. I was just wondering…is there anything you wanted to…talk to me about? I just get this feeling that…"

"I was bored, Sam," Abbey said, definitively. "You were available. You looking for a better excuse than that?"

"Yes, ma'am. I am."

Eyeing him carefully, Abbey moved her rook.

"Check."

Sam glanced down in surprise. She had just taken his bishop. Clearly, he had not given her enough credit when it came to the game. He must have momentarily forgot just who she was married to.

"Nicely played, Mrs. B."

"Now that you mention it," Abbey said. "There is something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Sure, wait until it's my turn, then drop the bomb on me," Sam laughed. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"I…beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"Leo's acting a little skiddish and my husband can barely look me in the eye. What's going on, Sam?"

"Mrs. Bartlet, please believe me when I tell you, I have no idea."

"Sam, come on."

"You're right. Something's going on. I just…have no earthly idea what it is."

"You're serious," Abbey said, in disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm starting to get the feeling that if they haven't clued me in already, they're not going to. So I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you."

"Then we're through here."

Sam nodded stoicly and stood up. Abbey laughed and gestured for him to sit down again.

"I was kidding."

"Right. Of course."

"You think I'm letting you out of here before I kick your ass, you're crazy," Abbey remarked.

"I don't doubt it, ma'am."

"I never thought I'd say this," Abbey began. "But I'm really gonna miss them all."

Jed smiled sadly.

"You and me both."


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

Abbey sprawled out on the couch and rested her head on her husband's lap. He stroked her hair gently with one hand and held his half full glass of scotch in the other. It was a wonder their children had not come looking for them yet. He was willing to bet they had more an inkling of what was going on and opted not to disturb their reminiscing. In addition, he imagined they were likely engaging in some nostalgia of their own up in the Residence.

"Jed," Abbey whispered.

She turned onto her back to look up at him directly.

"Hmm?"

"If you had to estimate, would you say the last eight years have been filled with more good times than bad times?"

That was an answer he did not feel qualified to give. There was a distinct possibility that his response would drastically differ from hers. That was not a risk he was willing to take.

"I don't know," Jed answered, quietly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," she agreed. "There have certainly been some bad times."

"And some good."

"Yes. But what will we remember five years from now?"

March, 2000

Jed's POV You know, I abhor pop music. In fact, I hate most of the stuff made after the year Abbey was born. It's like she came into the world and stole every ounce of creativity and inspiration for herself. And it shows. It's in the rich auburn of her hair and the dazzling whirlpool of her eyes. It lives in her smile, sultry and sly alike. But most often, I see it when she wields her power over me.  
Like in the Oval tonight. I know she was right in some ways, she always is, but I needed her to realize that we can't be apart here. This place, grand though it is, can tear us apart if we let it. This is the first step: talking to each other from opposite sides of a television camera. We can't do this. We have to look at each other. We need to be the only people in this marriage. CJ was a mistake; so was the kid.  
And I wasn't talking out of my ass when I said I'd go to the Hill. I will and if that means putting it in session first, so be it! I will not lose her, not over this. Not over a damned interview, even one for a good cause. I want her to have her opinions and to speak her mind -- I love her best when she does -- but there are things she can't say now. There's a time and place for everything. This morning in the Mural Room was neither.  
However -- and this is big -- I was wrong to sic CJ on her and in turn, Sam. It wasn't fair of me to send in the dogs when all I had to do was say I disagreed. Yes, it may have caused a fight. God knows I hate confrontations, especially with Abbey, but this was a fight that needed to be had. And we had it. It's over now. It won't be the last in the next three years, but I pray it's the worst. We're strongest when we're on the same side.  
We're at our best in love.  
So, I turn up this new song I heard and pour my wife a glass of champagne. She doesn't know what I'm up to, but she'll get the idea. I sit down beside her on the love seat and take one of her hands. She narrows her eyes in confusion as some song I doubt she's heard plays and it isn't our usual fare. Rock, pop, whatever the hell it is, the chorus speaks to me. And as the speakers draw it out, the lyrics call to her.  
I stroke her hand that holds this ring I placed there before God and family -- not all of whom agreed --and I say, "I would've gone to Congress"  
She touches my chest just where my heart beats and she looks through me again with those eyes. "I know."

"We always seem to come out of it alive though."

Jed nodded.

"What choice to do we have?"

She leaned up and kissed him softly.

"None."

February, 2001

It was almost noon when Ellie finally tracked down her father long enough to say goodbye. Charlie was rushing him through the halls, insisting they were late for an important meeting- she didn't catch what for. He had kissed her on the cheek, touched her shoulder lightly, then brushed past her. And he wondered why she was so insecure about their unstable relationship. She had followed him to a location in the West Wing she wasn't exceedingly familiar with and as a result, she stood silently, her eyes darting around looking for any sign that was recognizable to her. Luckily, CJ came to her rescue and escorted her safely out of the building.

A few hours later, the President managed to scrounge up a little spare time and used it to pay his wife a visit. She had returned from Atlanta late that morning and he hadn't had a chance to see her yet. When he reached the Residence, he found her seated at the dining room table surrounded by files and documents. Without acknowledging his presence, she pushed her glasses down onto the bridge of her nose and peered at one of the papers in front of her. Seconds later, she was shuffling the documents around, engaging in a desperate scavenger hunt for some elusive piece of paper.

"Welcome back."

She pushed her glasses back up and turned her head in surprise. A forced smile played daintily upon her lips as she regarded him and then returned her attentions to the aforementioned files.

"Hey."

"How was the trip?"

"It was good," Abbey replied, nonchalantly. "Japan?"

"Good. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call you yesterday. The thing with Ellie and Millie…"

"Yeah. It's fine."

He buried his hands in his pockets and moved closer to where she sat.

"You got a chance to see Ellie before she left?"

"Yeah." Behind her glasses, he could distinguish her raised eyebrow. "Did you?"

"Briefly," Jed answered, honestly. "I assume she told you about…"

"Yeah. Told me everything. Got a phone call from Millie as well."

He sat down in the chair beside her.

"And?"

"And what, Jed? What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, Abbey, but you always think of something."

Abbey shrugged dismissively.

"You dropped the ball on this one, Jed. Thankfully, you picked it back up at the end but…"

"How was I supposed to react, oh Mother of the Year?"

Her icy stare sent his indignation retreating back into a secluded area inside him that no one could touch.

"You better thank your lucky stars I'm opting to disregard that little remark in the interest of focusing on a more related topic."

Jed groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"You had no right to talk to her the way you did. You know it too. You don't fly off the handle and shout at your 24-year-old daughter. Especially not without listening to her side of the story first. For you to directly come out and accuse her of acting with the sole intent of making you unhappy…that was an unbelievably stupid and unnecessarily cruel move. No, Ellie should not have called up Danny like that. She made a mistake. If you thought that treating her the way you did was going to improve your already shaky relationship then you're crazy. Really, I just…I don't know what got into you, Jed. But this isn't the first time you've been out of line in your reaction to something like that."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Ron Erlich."

"And your 'preference' for him," Jed concluded disdainfully.

"That's right." Her eyes softened suddenly and she gazed at him with a barely detectable glimmer of sympathy. "I want you to think about something. What if Zoey had called Danny? What if Liz had called him?"

"What if?"

"Would your reaction have been the same?" Abbey questioned.

Jed frowned, genuinely offended by the question she had posed.

"Abbey, you of all people…"

"I am not accusing you loving one of your daughters less than the other two, or whatever it was you told Millie. I'm asking you if your reaction would have been the same."

He hesitated for a moment, allowing the fake scenarios to play out in his head.

"No," Jed answered, quietly, as if the realization astonished him. "Probably not."

"All right then. Sometimes you let your insecurities about your relationship cloud your judgment. And I don't want to bring up the high ground, but…" She paused. "You know what she asked me this morning? She said, 'Do you think Dad has changed since becoming President?'"

Jed bowed his head pensively, then looked up at her vulnerably.

"What did you tell her?"

"I said, 'His job has, but his love for you hasn't.'"

He smiled gratefully and covered her hand with his. He smiled faded, however, when she didn't reciprocate. She continued to regard him sympathetically, but she offered him no endearing smile to reassure him.

"She said, 'I know, that's the problem.'"

Jed withdrew his hand and dropped it into his lap.

"You're just gonna have to try harder, that's all," Abbey said. "I have faith in your love for her. I believe in your willingness to sacrifice your happiness for hers. I have no doubt that she is one of four reasons you wake up in the morning. All you have to do is make her see what I see. Once you've done that, everything will fall into place."

"Everything did fall into place," Jed noted, with not a small mixture of pride and amazement.

"Yes, it did," Abbey agreed. "There are only a few pieces left to the puzzle. Leo Josiah Faison is one of them."


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

July, 2002

It had been months since they'd spent more time together awake in a room than asleep. Despite that, the first thing they did up their arrival at Camp David was sleep. Jed slept with Abbey's hand touching his back, the tiny throbbing of her pulse easing him into peace. He didn't dream of his fallen soldiers or lost friends for a change. He didn't dream of mistakes made -- and unchangeable, but of tomorrow's possibilities and what he could do with them. He could change minds and lives and wake people up to the fact that this was not a perfect world but that it could be.  
But now, just now, he slept with the soothing press of his wife's fingers against his back and thought, peripherally, of how, the next day, he would lead her into the dense wood for the kind of kiss that would occupy them for well past an hour. He sighed and settled as she snuggled towards his warmth, her hand sliding around him to rest on the junction of his stomach and chest. Her fingers fit into the indentions of his muscles, into the space between the xylophones of his ribcage. He slept restfully for the first time in months; she slept gladly for the same. They carried the burden of exhaustion together.  
They had the weekend to look forward to. Plans, plans, there were always plans. This trip had been planned, planned and plotted until there wasn't a moment of spare time remaining to be human. It was a risk they'd both taken when they'd agreed to be these icons for the world. Plans, plans, schedules and time limits. That didn't mean they didn't miss humanity.  
Their mutual dislike for both plans and idolatry made them slow to wake the next morning and even slower to part when he had to attend his daily security briefing. They assured each other that they would own the rest of the day, just them and their livelihood and their regressions into adolescent courting rituals. They parted with a lingering kiss that left her strangely weak and left him touching his lips where still a trace of lipstick clung.  
He spent the bulk of the briefing just nodding his head where appropriate -- which couldn't be good for anyone -- and thinking about open spaces and the surface of the lake where he hoped to take Abbey rowing. No, it wasn't something he was particularly skilled at, but that fact alone would give her reason to mock him endlessly and therefore to smile. She hadn't smiled enough in a while. It wasn't so much that she seemed unhappy; she came across as content in most ways, but she didn't exactly radiate with bliss either. She used to; he remembered that she had once.  
When he returned to the quaint cabin they shared within shouting distance of a 'discreet' Secret Service guard house, he found her folded into an old wingback chair before a window overlooking the woods. She had a book opened in her lap, though she clearly wasn't reading, wasn't even wearing her glasses. Instead, they hung forgotten from her fingers as she stared absently over the modestly enchanting vista. She didn't appear upset or anxious, just lost in her head, a place he wasn't sure he was welcome.  
Although their time together was dwindling every second he stood watching and not being with her, he didn't approach. A thoughtful Abbey was best allowed to wander through the fields of gold that were her thoughts undisturbed. She knew he was here, or would figure it out soon enough. She'd let him know when she wanted him.  
Careful of his own klutziness, Jed turned away to the sitting room and navigated his way to the couch. Here, there was also a view. It wasn't as enrapturing, but it was vast and compelled him to think again. Their first chance to be completely alone and they spent it apart. It didn't bother him as much as it struck him rather philosophical.  
The people of the world, even those in their private section of it, had sutured them together unfairly. What she did affected him and what he could do, and what he did was to punish her or to restrict her or to apologize for her. They had been attached with the belittling titles of cause and effect interchangeably. Everyone tended to define them together and to forget that separate they were just as fascinating. Sometimes, Jed forgot too.  
With his legs stretched out before him, he could just glimpse the sun's unassuming reflection off the dark water over the window seat. It was far enough away to put off but near enough that he couldn't forget. He yawned voraciously and pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. Twenty minutes gone and not a sound from Abbey. She had to know he was here by now. He felt a twinge of concern in the pit of his stomach. He swung his legs down and made to stand when two arms he'd know in the freezing rain came to still him. She was laughing, patently enjoying his torment, when she asked him if he was looking for her. He peered over his shoulder to find no trace of the pensive woman he'd stumbled onto a little while ago. In her place was someone with an exhilarated gleam in her eyes. This was the woman he knew.  
He grumbled something about how terrifically unfunny she was. She, per their usual routine, paid him no attention, preferring to hold him as closely as having the back of the couch between them would allow. As she leaned against him her hair slipped from behind her ear to rest damply against his collar. A subtle fragrance exuded from the warm body behind him, filling his lungs and waking his nerves from their midday stupor.  
He inhaled her atmosphere, noting the backwards pull of her lips into a smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing. She rubbed her cheek against his, still carrying a light sheen of steam from her warm shower. He didn't know how she'd gotten to the bathroom without his seeing her, but he wasn't terribly concerned. Lovely and mysterious were the ways of his wife; he'd learned not to ask.  
Not that he cared right now. Her hair was wet and the way she practically stuck to his body indicated that the rest of her wasn't exactly waterless either. Pakistan and Italy could've marched on Washington and he would've told them to make an appointment. He had a special meeting of the government to attend.

He repositioned himself to get a good look at her, shimmering skin and lips. "Get over here," he tugged her over the back of the couch, ignoring her protests and set her down in his lap. She glared at him and he wiggled his eyebrows at her. He didn't show any sympathy. She knew that every action had its consequence. This was hers. There were worse things he could do.  
He ignored any further complaint, winding an arm around her waist and another around her shoulders. She reciprocated, hiding her face in his neck and making some non sequitur comment about the weather. He responded with an aimless tangent about clouds to which she could only scoff and say that he was hers, uncontested.  
They remained that way, partaking in the most eccentric conversation of their years together; weather, local politics, ER, and Chopin. It was foreplay to her, coupled with his picking at her sweater with thick fingers and rubbing her hip against his. She shivered, though it might've been the cold. She wasn't quite dry yet.  
He nudged from him lap and stood up, taking her by the hand and leading her away from the picture window and its magnificent lake view. The bedroom waited patiently for their return and didn't balk when Abbey firmly shut the door behind them. Clothes littered the floor a short time later and the walls jailed the invigorating sounds a husband and wife meeting on common, shuddering ground.  
In their after bliss, she judged his hands. One splayed across her sternum, just within reach of her breasts and the other rested across her inner thigh. They were large, with a deeply embedded potential for violence, but they weren't weapons. They were tender instruments of support, love and pleasure. She counted his fingers and for each had a memory.  
He judged her eyes, inquisitive, constantly seeking answers and resolutions. She was thinking now, stroking his hands affectionately. What striking eyes, and behind them, what a beautiful mind. They flitted up to look at him and he caught his breath. Score one for falling in love again, with the same person.  
She smoothed down what little of the sheets covered them, flushing under his look. His hands weren't his only instruments. As he played with her hair, which had dried into a mess of massive proportions, there was a knock on the door.  
Abbey closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Jed looked down at her with remorse. He covered her with a kiss, knowing any interruption meant departure. He donned his robe and tied it shut. He steeled himself before opened the heavy door. He didn't try not to be imposing.  
The agent filled him in quickly on the details, bothering to look apologetic for the intrusion. It was appreciated and Jed let him go with a "Thank you, son." He walked around, dressing unenthusiastically and noted how Abbey hadn't moved since he left the bed.  
Once he was presentable, he ran his fingers down her bare arm and swore that the evening would be theirs, he'd be back before nightfall -- a host of promises he shouldn't have made and most likely wouldn't keep. She didn't respond to that, but wished him luck and a weak smile.  
As soon as he left, the smile vanished and she slumped against the pillows in frustration. She came here to have him to herself, not to share him with the latest world crisis.  
She threw up her hands and climbed out of bed, sheet in tow, to her chair and her wooded still life. She replaced her book in her lap and picked up her glasses. She might as well read, she wouldn't be graced with Jed's company for some time.  
Plans, plans, schedules and time limits. This was not the plan. Four more years, she told herself. Just four.

The intricate carving of the Oval Office ceiling captivated Abbey with its opulence and realism. In her more easily distracted mind, she imagined the regal fowl might very well have turned his head to peer down at her and wink. She sealed her lips with two fingers, her eyes crinkling with her concealed smile. She'd never given their internal sky more than the barest glance since the day of their arrival; it was much too far above her head to do while upright. But this vantage point made for flawless study. Of both the ceiling and the man fingering her hair so wistfully.  
Under the pretense of inspecting woodwork, she observed him, his settled mood of an hour ago a distant recollection. He had come to peace with some matters, but others still weighed heavily on his mind and heart. They were three years and two months old respectively and she didn't think they'd be settled tonight. Or by him. Another man, already chosen, would attempt to repair the first damage and the other was permanent, and left that sort of scar. He would nurse it for a long time, and she would wait in that hell with him until the pain cooled.  
She turned on her side, fingering his buttons with the intent to distract. He followed their aimless motions for a few seconds before capturing them in his hand, kissing her palm tenderly. She sat up, folding her legs beside her. Her solemn humming caught him off-guard. When somebody loves you, it's no good unless he loves you all the way. "When all else fails, sing?" He asked her and she stood up, stretching her shapely limbs in different directions.  
"And if you can't sing?" she questioned playfully, stepping beyond his arms' reach and shedding her dress jacket.  
Happy to be near you, when you need someone to cheer you - all the way. He rose behind her, following her slightly dancing hips, until he caught her atop the floor's imposing Seal. She sighed, he rubbed his lips to the subtle meeting of her neck and shoulder. "You sing anyway"  
Taller than the tallest tree is, that's how it's got to feel.  
She turned in his affected embrace, wrapping her arms vine-like about his neck. He beamed down at her, his melancholy packed away in a box labeled miscellaneous. She could only hope he would remember where it was. His loss for names was equaled only by his ability to misplace, at least once, every thing of import he'd ever owned.  
Not limited to his wedding ring, which had led, some years ago, to a shouting match that ended with him sleeping on the couch and her not speaking to him for a week and a half. Admittedly, most of that was to punish him; she never was all that upset. Things happened. It was how he responded to his vision of her nightmare reaction that made for years of memoir-worthy anecdotes.  
She loved this man; she did. He was a walking made-for-TV movie.  
Deeper than the deep blue sea is, that's how deep it goes - if it's real They rocked along with the melody hanging invisibly over their heads, touching noses, wrapped in one of God's eternal jokes; love. Her dress's silk fabric bent and gave between his fingers as he memorized the tactile sensation he would forever associate with her skin. He would touch her again, but it would be different in some way. Things wouldn't be the same.  
When somebody needs you, it's no good unless he needs you - all the way She rubbed her thumb up and down the nape of his neck, drawing a murmur of satisfaction from her swaying husband. He dipped down to kiss the sharp and smooth arches of her brow, the positive slope of her nose, and the flawless creaminess of her cheek with dry, attentive lips. A flush rose in said cheeks, accentuating her eyes' meaningful shine.  
She stood on the toes of her stilettos and kissed those attentive lips, which still smiled. The dizzy pleasure went to his head and he backed up, keeping her close, until they collided with one of his lovely antique chairs and she stumbled. She caught herself on him, leaning against him like he was a breakfast counter and she his most faithful patron.  
Through the good or lean years and for all the in-between years - come what may Feigning nonchalance, she adjusted his collar and flattened his necktie. "You are a handsome one."

He raised his eyebrows up in subdued mirth. "So I've been told"  
She framed the face she adored in her petite hands and blessed him with another kiss, and another -- then, one more. He wouldn't let her slip away form the last one so easily. He held her with one powerfully-muscled arm and tickled her side with nimble fingertips.  
She twisted away, gaping and sputtering with invented indignation. Naturally, he went after her, poking her in the ribs and swatting her ass. They were a sight for the tabloid covers; Abbey skittering behind the Resolute Desk and Jed daring her to go anywhere else.  
She moved a yard towards the door; he moved to cut her off. She moved towards the standing flag and he looked at her like she was deluded. She wasn't going anywhere. He knew it. She knew it. That was half the fun.  
Washing her hands of the entire stand-off, Abbey perched on the edge of the desk closest to the windows and stuck her tongue out at her befuddled husband. She was so not letting him knock her on her ass and said as much. He surrendered. He didn't exactly feel like chasing her all over Oval Kingdom Come. That was them in their twenty and forties. Instead, he approached her and took her hand. She watched him with wariness, not believing for a moment that he was conceding.  
He parted her fingers, tracing seemingly meaningless symbols on her open fist. Until he began to say them as he stroked their likeness into her skin. "January 19th, 1966, the day I met a certain breathtaking Harvard student with a sharper tongue and sharper wit. I didn't know she would change my life"  
She leaned towards him imperceptibly, drawn to wistfulness in his inflection and the feather light sensation of his touch.  
He wrote a 1, a 3, a 2. "1:32 am, the minute I woke up in a cold sweat after a particularly vivid dream about that same student. She left me breathless and she wasn't even there. I missed her for the first time that night." A 9. "It took me nine months to get her attention from a certain football jock "  
"Six," she corrected, smirking. Though it weighed little in hindsight, she remembered as well as he did. His rampant adoring looks and his shy stumble and ramble had endeared him to her in that time.  
"Nine, Abigail. I should know. I waited, I prayed, and I counted"  
She drew a 37 on the back of his hand. "And you won." Thirty-seven years and counting. She slid closer to him on the desk's surface, nestling herself into the niche of his lap and shoulder. He brushed her hair from her neck, inhaling Shalimar and Abigail by God from her proximity.  
Who knows where the road will lead us, only a fool would say "I won." He laid a possessive hand on her stomach. "More than I could've imagined." A lifetime of emotions rolled just under the surface of his words. She pressed herself against him, willing them to become one if for nothing more than to exorcise whichever demons had been alternatively stealing and returning him to her all night.  
She couldn't take anymore of this relapsing/remitting depression. They would never spend another moment in this building, in this position, and this leisure. There was something to be said for last chances. "I only have a vague idea what's going on in that head of yours, but I do know that it's hurting you. I don't want that and I don't want you sitting here with me and not telling me. Tell me what it is. Even if I can't fix the problem, I may be able to ease your mind"  
He dropped a kiss onto her temple and buried his nose in her hair. "You always ease my mind"  
"I try." He only exhaled in mild exasperation at her stubbornness. He always did. "I love you and there's nothing going on up there that will change that"  
"Even when what's up here changes"  
An ice age descended over her heart. All of the changes; people were growing up, growing apart, raising families while he was growing older, and in his mind, frailer.  
Still, she nodded, eyes closed in her own personal denial. "Even if it doesn't." She removed herself from his hold, preferring to face him directly. "No matter how much you change -- inside or out, it makes no difference --I will always love you. I will be there"  
"You promised"  
She groaned in frustration, squeezing her eyes shut before looking at him pleadingly. "Believe me, I won't be there because of a promise or even our marriage vows. I will be there, because that's where I belong. With you. I go where you go"  
But if you'll let me love you, it's for sure I'm gonna love you all the way. All the way "I love you, too." He wasn't ready to answer to the rest of it. Even in dwelling on it internally, he wasn't ready to further discuss his own demise. Not with her, not with the one who would see him every step on the path to sleep.  
"You look so tired." She peered at him, ever-loving and concerned. She outlined the deep impressions exhaustion had abandoned on his skin. She knew under well-applied cosmetics, she looked similar. In the future, she would laugh and call them battle scars. She remembered being almost young when they came here.  
"I haven't slept in years." Not for a lack of trying; between the world on fire and Abbey, there wasn't a wink to be had.  
"You wanna sleep now?" She stroked the center of his chest, stopping at her soft stomach. She was shimmering in an enchanting way and he felt the need to bask in her life force a while longer.  
"Not so much"  
I'm gonna love you all the way Life would not end now. There were still many births and celebrations and anniversaries for them to call their own. Although they would, in leaving, leave behind some they loved, they would also carry them with them on the many journeys yet to come. Life would not end here, but their time in this White House was through.  
THE END 


End file.
